Never Doubt I Love
by KareninaCrawley
Summary: Mary and Tom had an affair long before they married their respective spouses, and they still harbour an intense love for one another. This story is AU for the affair part (though it would have been amazing) but will stay true to the show for character deaths etc.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: I was inspired by "Addiction" by 'patienceyounggrasshopper' as it was so wonderfully written. This tells the tale of Mary and Tom's affair (which I would set during season 1) which we will see mainly through a series of flashbacks and will also deal with what happened in the regular series. Mary's relationship with Matthew in this story may be quite controversial but it will be explained in due course, so please bear with me! I still believe that Mary and Tom should have ended up together, so I promise that this story will be a HEA for "Brary" lovers. Also, I have not given up on my other story ("I will never be free of you") but I had this idea and had to act on it. I would expect the next chapter of that story to be up soon.**

 **Now, without further ado, and before I can think of anything else to say, I give you "Never doubt I love,"**

The Visit

"No one must ever know," she had implored him all those years ago as she gave herself to him, body and soul. It all came

flooding back, all of the nights together and the passion they had for one another. Now, he stood before her, as her sister's husband.

▫️

Mary sat at her vanity, so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard her husband speak.

"Mary," he called, rousing her from her stupor.

She shook herself and turned in her seat. "Yes darling?" She asked, forcing herself to smile.

"I was just saying how wonderful it is to have Sybil back." Matthew explained with a quizzical expression on his face.

His wife sighed and returned to face the mirror. "I suppose it is."

He moved from where he sat on the bed and placed a hand on her slim shoulder. "I know she shocked you all by marrying Tom, but it's been months."

"She did shock me, yes. But more than that, she hurt me, Matthew, and I never thought I would say that about her," Mary stood, thus ending the conversation. "Let's get this over with,"

With that, the pair left the room.

▫️

The entire family Crawley was gathered in the drawing room, the interrogation was in full swing. But Mary heard not a word of Tom's defence. She had yet to meet his eyes, those eyes that still haunted her.

"All I will say is that we're happy, Papa, so desperately happy." Sybil announced in her breathy voice, the opposite of Mary's. Robert Crawley had been waiting for his youngest daughter to say those words to him. If her happiness depended on his former chauffeur, then so be it.

"We also have some news," she added, reaching for Tom's hand. Mary noticed that he avoided her gaze, which prepared her for what was to come, but did nothing to soften the blow.

"I'm pregnant!"

Hollow, Mary felt hollow. Her stomach had dropped, plummeted. Lady Mary Crawley, the master of the false smile and empty congratulations could not bring herself to remain in the room. With tears in her eyes and a stabbing at her heart, she fled the room unnoticed by her jubilant family.

▫️

It was Anna who knew all, and it was Anna who found her that evening. She knew that her mistress did not cry over trivial matters . So when she entered the room at her usual time and saw Mary sobbing uncontrollably on her bed, she knew immediately what had caused the tears.

"Oh m'lady," Anna whispered.

Mary's face was red and blotchy, the tears that dampened it still flowing.

"I miss him, Anna." Came a small, unfamiliar voice.

The loyal maid nodded and placed a hand on Mary's arm. "I know you do."

What Mary needed now was not someone who needed her to forget, she needed someone who understood. Anna was that person, and while Mary readied for bed they reminisced on her time with Tom. It helped, yet it hurt.

When Mary was finished and about to climb into bed, she called out to her friend.

"Anna, will you please ask Mr Crawley to sleep in his dressing room this evening?"

▫️

The ancient clock in the hall struck midnight and roused Mary from her uneasy slumber. She tossed and turned for an eternity before deciding to retrieve a book from the library. Making her way quietly down the grand staircase, she arrived at her destination and carefully opened the heavy door. It creaked open and she reached for the light switch, only to realise that it was already on. Her heart stopped as she met his eyes.

Tom sat on the crimson couch with a book in one hand, a brandy in the other. Mary attempted to turn quickly and leave but she was rooted ti the spot and he was too fast. He had stood from the couch, crossed the room and grabbed her arm.

"Mary," he whispered. She swallowed hard, his touch still sent electricity through her body.

"I...I believe congratulations are in order," she breathed and he released his grasp. "I'm sorry I left in such a hurry, I had the most dreadful headache,"

Tom shook his head. "Don't lie Mary, not to me." She had turned her back by now and let out a hollow laugh.

"Oh I forgot, Tom Branson knows me better than anyone,"

"I do, unless you count Matthew,"

"I don't," she cut in.

"Yet you chose him," he told her angrily.

"And you chose Sybil," she snapped.

Mary could feel his stare heating her back. She moved towards the bookcase and began to select a novel.

Blindly she grabbed a random book and faced him.

"Goodnight Tom,"

"Goodnight Mary,"

With that, she left him.


	2. Chapter 2

Six months had passed since Sybil and Tom's visit. Those few days had been particularly difficult for Mary. Had she been braver, it could have been her, and not Sybil, returning triumphantly from Ireland with Tom on her arm. Matthew had decided that it was the fact that her youngest sister was pregnant that upset Mary during the visit. It had been almost a year since their wedding after all, and there was no sign of an heir.

The Archbishop of York was the latest guest invited to dine at the Abbey. The table was resplendent and everything was passing smoothly until there was a thundering knock on the front door. When it did not cease after several moments, Mary excused herself to find out what it was, and to escape Matthew's questioning gaze.

"Do you have any luggage sir?" The footman asked while opening the door.

Mary did not have to look to see who it was, the gruff response told her all.

"I barely have the clothes I stand in,"

"Tom?" She called worriedly. "What are you doing here? Where's Sybil?"

He wore a pained expression, so bad that Mary believed him to be physically hurt.

"She's on her way, but please, Mary I need to talk to you."

Mary nodded and excused Alfred, telling Tom to go to Sybil's bedroom and wait for her.

She returned to the dining room, successfully being excused by feigning a headache. But she told her father the truth quietly, saying that Tom was upstairs...without Sybil.

▫️

He was upset when she let herself into the room, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

"God, Mary what have I done?" He croaked.

"I don't know Tom, what have you done?"

"Before I tell you, I have to know that you'll be on my side," Tom pleaded, pulling himself together somewhat.

"Of course I will, I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

That was all he needed to hear and so he began to tell her of the events in Ireland and how he was believed to be involved in a house burning.

"But Mary, when I saw them there, holding their children, their home in ashes, I was sorry." His tears flowed freely again and she took his hands in hers.

"I'm certain you regret it but that doesn't make it better Tom. What you did was wrong."

"Those places aren't the same for me Mary. When I look at them I don't see luxury and gracious living, I see something horrid. I see what took you away from me, what took my country from my people."

She released her hands as a wave of coldness washed over her.

"You still haven't explained about Sybil." Mary slowly spoke, trying hard not to hate him.

"She stayed behind to close up the flat. Hopefully she'll be on the boat by now."

"My pregnant sister. You left your wife who is six months pregnant behind in a foreign country and fled alone."

She stood, her pale hands shaking. What had happened to her Tom?

"You said you'd be on my side." He muttered.

"She's my sister Tom!" Mary cried, flailing her arms.

"I don't need to reminded of that. I know perfectly well she's your sister."

Deciding that a change of subject was needed, Mary told him that she would retrieve some dry clothes of Matthew's.

"I'm not wearing anything of his!" Tom barked, hurt at her suggestion.

"Papa's then." Came her small reply. She retreated to the door and was met by her furious husband and father. Resignedly, she left them to their interrogation without a word.

▫️

The next morning brought rain and Sybil. Cora walked her daughter upstairs, informing her of the night's drama.

"Mary?" Sybil called as she saw her sister through the crack in a bedroom door.

"Darling," Mary replied, joining the two women. She embraced her sister, relief washing through her.

"I'm perfectly fine Mary. Try not to hate Tom for this. I do love him so very much."

Lady Grantham linked arms with her youngest daughter and smiled.

"And he loves you,"

Mary followed the two, grateful that they could not see the tears forming in her eyes.

"Well, something good came from all of this. We can stay in Downton now," Sybil excitedly told the ladies.

▫️

It was the Spring of 1913 when Lady Mary Crawley met Tom Branson. Disgruntled that not one servant was around to tell the new chauffeur that the motor was required, Mary decided to tell him herself.

She sashayed down to the garage, and was met not by an old man, as she expected, but quite the opposite.

Clearing her throat, she waited until he noticed her standing in the doorway.

"Yes?" Came an Irish lilt. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his tanned, muscled forearms.

"I need the motor. You're taking me to York." Came her cold command.

"Am I now, who says?" Tom asked, looking her up and down and raising an eyebrow.

"Lady Mary Crawley, that's who." She snapped, unnerved at how his appreciative gaze made her feel.

She could tell that it was hard for him, bowing to authority. But he did it when he nodded and smiled apologetically.

"What time m'lady"

"Eleven," she said calmly, adding sarcastically "If it's not too much trouble."

"Course it isn't, Lady Edith was it?" He asked, wiping his hands on a cloth.

She met him with an icy stare. "No, it wasn't. Mister...?" Mary waited for him to reveal his name.

"Branson."

"Well Mr Branson, I'll see you in twenty minutes."


	3. Chapter 3

The only thing worse than losing her sister was watching Tom lose her sister. His wails overshadowed her own grief as the doctor announced that Sybil was gone. She met Matthew's glance across the room. Was he worried that she would return to Tom? Did he think of something like that at such a moment?

Suddenly, a loud cry resounded throughout the Abbey. The baby, Tom's baby, who would never know her mother. Mary excused herself and ran, wiping the tears from her eyes, towards the nursery.

▫️

At dawn, the nursery door creaked open. Tom stood in the doorway in his dressing gown, his cheeks blotchy and eyes red.

"Mary." He called out. She looked up from the dozing child in her arms and met his eyes. He cut a pathetic figure and she let a tear roll down her cheek.

"Thank you for making her happy." She croaked, returning her gaze to the baby.

With that, Tom broke down, sliding down the wall to sit on the carpeted floor.

"But if I hadn't married her she'd still be alive."

Mary placed the child in her crib and made her way over to Tom, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders.

"You can't think like that. You were happy together. Sybil would not have traded your marriage for a longer unhappy life."

The baby stirred and gurgled contentedly, causing the two to look over.

"She is Sybil's legacy. You cannot resent her."

"It's hard not to. But I'll try. Every time I look at her I will see Sybil."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Tom shook his head and began to cry again. Mary let him weep until he fell asleep, exhausted in her arms.

▫️

Kemal Pamuk had died in Mary's bed, but he had not taken anything from her. He had expired before anything had transpired. However, he had left her curious. Mary decided that she could not wait for a husband, and the only prospective one, Matthew Crawley, did not bode well in that department. After that first meeting with the chauffeur, and in the weeks following, Mary could not stop thinking about him. One day, when she was feeling particularly frustrated, she decided to take a trip to the garage. Branson was standing there, as usual, sleeves rolled up and tools in hand, tinkering with the engine.

"I wish I knew how to drive." Mary sighed, making him jump.

"Lady Mary, you startled me." He chastised while turning to face her. Grinning slightly, he motioned to the car and said: "I could teach you."

Raising an eyebrow, Mary replied: "I'm sure you could teach me many things."

Branson coughed and began to close the bonnet.

"I'd have to ask Papa for permission to take lessons. When would you be free?"

"Whenever you are, m'lady."

"This afternoon?"

"Sounds good." He nodded impishly.

Mary nodded back and left him, a rather confused chauffeur.

▫️

"Are you sure you've never driven before, m'lady?" Branson asked loudly over the din of the engine. Mary was doing very well, he would venture to say that she was a natural. When she smugly shook her head, he grinned and let out a chuckle, which made her smile.

"So what do you think of Downton?" She asked, glancing at him momentarily.

He studied her carefully, wondering whether his answer would be considered impertinent. "I think it's beautiful." He replied, noting her slight blush. "How do you like driving?"

"It's exciting. The danger of it is exhilarating." She was hoping he would catch her double entendre.

"Are you drawn to danger?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Then we have something in common."

They had reached a dead end where it would be difficult for Mary to turn. Branson helped with the wheel and as he leaned over, their faces were suddenly incredibly close. Suddenly, before either knew it, they were kissing. It was different than any kiss Mary had ever experienced. Like the driving, it was exhilarating.

From then on, neither Mary nor Tom missed a driving lesson.


	4. Chapter 4

A year had passed since Sybil's death. The same amount of time had passed since Tom had looked at Mary in the same way. She was pregnant with Matthew's child. It had been a difficult journey, one which involved an operation and many uncomfortable moments. The family were headed to the highlands to visit their cousins, and Tom wasn't invited.

Robert commiserated with him over breakfast on the day of their departure.

"Why should they invite me? They don't know me." Came his nonchalant reply. He met Mary's eyes from under his brow. The usual pained expression that he wore whenever he saw her washed over his handsome features.

"Everyone ready?" Cora asked, standing up. The others followed and readied themselves for the station.

▫️

On their fourth evening in Duneagle, Mary and Matthew lay in bed together, his hand resting on her protruding bump.

"Tom seems so different lately." He mused while she avoided his eyes.

"What do you care?" She asked coldly. "You hate him."

Matthew withdrew his hand and sat up in the bed.

"Something that cannot be said for you."

Mary sat up also and turned to face her husband, a disdainful expression adorned her usually beautiful face.

"When will you stop holding that over me? I married you didn't I?"

"Reluctantly," Matthew scoffed. "Tell me, Mary, how would you feel if you had to see the person who had been with the person you loved before you had, everyday?"

She looked down at her wedding rings, she had always despaired at their simplicity. Not that she had wanted anything ostentatious, but she had had her eye on a family ring for years. Her simple, small diamond was proof that Matthew did not know her. They also symbolised the boredom of her marriage.

"I cannot say before, but Sybil was someone I saw quite often." She snapped, venturing to meet his pained, piercing blue eyes.

"So you love him. You're carrying my child, and you love another man."

Dodging her confession, which was obvious anyway, Mary shut off her lamp and whispered: "You'll have your heir, don't worry about that. But we had a deal, you cannot go back on your word."

Matthew threw off his covers and strode towards the dressing room, slamming the door as he left.

▫️

"My Mary is the true Mary." He had whispered in her ear while she held their sleeping son in her tired arms.

It was a sweet moment, really. They had put all of their fighting aside to enjoy their first few moments as a family of three. How was she to know that they would also be their last.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. But Matthew was in a car crash." Her father had explained, holding her hand and speaking to her deaf ears.

"He's gone, my darling."

She had not expected the feelings that she had felt. Guilt, anger, remorse, sadness all enveloped her as she lay in the hospital bed. Even so, no tears came. Unable to cry, Mary lay there, staring into the middle distance, until her family came to collect her the next morning to take her home.

She had loved him, in a way. Her love for Matthew did not overwhelm her as her love for Tom did, but it was there.

Having not uttered a word in days, Mary sat in the front of the church as the vicar extolled her husband's virtues. She had not expected to be a widow at twenty nine. She had not expected to be made a widow and mother on the same day.

As she followed his coffin from the church, she noted the villagers' sympathetic nods and looks. They all thought that Mary had lost her prince, when in truth, she had lost him many years ago.

Tom had kept his distance, even when Cora had suggested that he console Mary. "You know how she's feeling, you can help her." She had told him, within earshot of her daughter, who promptly left the room.

As they reached the grave site, she saw him standing there, holding his daughter in his arms. The nanny stood behind him with her son in his pram, barely a week old. He stomach dropped as Tom turned and looked into said pram. In her grief stricken, sleep deprived state, Mary saw a man with golden blonde hair, not chestnut brown, admiring her son. Usually it was the other way around. Whenever she saw Matthew, she would imagine Tom in his place. How was it that she loved him more in death than in life? Her mind was indeed playing tricks on her.

▫️

The summer of 1913 had been magical. Lady Mary Crawley was in love.

Her driving lessons had continued, but she began to invent other reasons to visit her chauffeur beau.

One particularly hot day, when all of the family was away, Mary made her way down to the garage.

Her heart always skipped a beat whenever he greeted her with his amazing grin.

"It's so desperately hot, I wondered if you felt like a walk to the lake." She inquired, standing in the doorway in a light blue sundress which billowed in the slight breeze.

"Won't the family disapprove?" He asked, walking towards her.

"They're all at some ghastly garden party hours away. They took the train and everything." Mary announced, smiling as he came closer.

"And why weren't you invited?" Branson asked, finally reaching her and placing his hands on her narrow waist. She wasn't wearing a corset.

Grinning mischievously, she answered: "Let's just say, one is not usually invited to the home of the man you rejected."

"Is that so? Well then, while the cat's way..."

Mary took his arm, noting that he wore only a crisp white shirt, as usual, rolled up to his elbows.

▫️

"I have an idea." She announced once they reached the enchanting lake.

"I've already had it." Tom laughed as he pulled off his shirt. He was muscled and remarkably tanned. Mary's breath caught as he pulled off his trousers and ran into the lake, although he had left his underwear on. "Come on, the water's lovely."

With that she pulled off her dress and little white shoes and joined him, wearing just her chemise.

"Here," he motioned for her to join him. When she did he moved behind her and began to pull the pins from her hair. Throwing them onto the grass, he announced: "Much better."

Her dark, almost black hair floated on the water and she grinned at the comfort of it. Those pins always gave her such wretched headaches.

"Tom?" she tentatively asked as she tread water.

"Yes."

"If I ask you something, you must promise not to laugh, nor think me very forward."

He wore a puzzled expression, but nodded, saying that he wouldn't.

"Will you make love to me?"

Branson coughed and stuttered: "Surely when you're married..."

"I won't marry for love, few of us do. Tom, I like you a lot, and I trust you." She looked at him with large, doe eyes and he grinned.

"Okay then, my cottage is always free." He kissed her then, more passionately than he had ever done before.

Breaking away, Mary breathed, "No one must ever know."

▫️

A.N: please don't hate my Matthew, all will be explained shortly, this is not the last we've heard from him! All of your reviews so far have been lovely amd so encouraging! Thank you so much!


	5. Chapter 5

"It's time you came back to us."

He had joined her at the side of the library where the family was taking tea. Throughout the six months following Matthew's death, Tom had made a conscious effort to help Mary. She however, was rejecting any assistance. Her guilt ravaged her, leaving her unable to sleep and eat. It hurt him to see her like this.

"What would you suggest?" Came her small inquiry, the first time she had engaged with someone in months. His large, worried eyes had broken her.

Seizing his opportunity, Tom thought quickly about what had helped him through his grief.

"Take an interest in something." He suggested, recalling how he began to work on the estate, and of course Sybbie.

"I'm interested in George." She ventured, looking towards the floor. The boy was another cause for guilt. She was still a stranger to him.

Relief washed over Tom as she said those words. Everyone had been sympathetic towards the baby for so long, believing that Mary would never take much of an interest in him. While the upper class usually left it all to nanny, it was still required that the parents have some semblance of a relationship with their offspring.

He began to tell her about how he usually spent his afternoons with Sybbie and invited both her and George to join. Mary accepted for later that day.

▫️

"Tell me, Mary, why did you choose the name George." Tom asked while building blocks with his daughter on the floor of the nursery. The family had never been told the meaning of the boy's name when Mary had insisted upon it.

"Matthew wanted it." She shrugged, her eyes glazing over. Tom knew that look, it meant that she was remembering something.

Mary looked down at her son who lay content in her arms. He was beginning to look more and more like a miniature Matthew with each passing day.

"Did he say why?"

"Why what?" Mary, dazed and confused, inquired. She began to shake and lose her grip on the baby. Tom rushed over and caught the boy before Mary collapsed against the chair.

Trying hard to revive her, Tom held her hands and pleaded with her. He rang for the nanny who promptly took the children and promised to call for the doctor.

Mary's breathing was steady, but she was still shaking severely and was unconscious.

Taking her hands in his, Tom realised that she was freezing. He took her in his arms and rubbed her arms furiously, as he had when Sybil had been cold in their flat back in Dublin.

A gasp filled the tense room as Mary came around. In the warmth of Tom's embrace, she burst into tears. Never before had tears been more welcome nor more reassuring.

He comforted her quietly and hugged her skeletal frame close. It was terrifying to see how emaciated she had become, so different to his Mary of before. He knew that it was her way of punishing herself.

"I'm so sorry Tom." She mumbled into his shirt, now wet with tears.

"For what?" He asked gently.

"I ruined it all." With that her sobs increased and Doctor Clarkson entered the room along with Cora and Robert.

"Thank heavens." Cora exclaimed at the sight of her daughter wracked with sobs. "She's cried."

▫️

The doctor had prescribed rest and food, lots of food. Mary had retired to her room and Cora stayed with her, keeping watch. Outside, Robert stopped Tom before he walked away.

"Thank you." The elder man nodded to his son-in-law. "Who knows how long she could have gone on like that for."

"I didn't do anything." Tom shook his head and began to walk alongside the Earl.

"You were there for her. Don't think that your attempts have gone unnoticed. We're all very grateful."

"She was there for me after Sybil died. I thought it only fair to return the favour."

Robert stopped and rested his hand on Tom's shoulder.

The two men who cared about Mary most in the world suddenly became equal. The Earl and the former chauffeur found common ground, and Tom knew that that was the first step towards any semblance of a future worth having.

▫️

Mary had never really noticed before, but her family was often home. This made it rather difficult to find time to visit Tom's cottage. Weeks had passed before an opportunity arose. Sybil was coming out in a matter of months and everyone had travelled to London to attend fittings and organise the finer details. Mary had bowed out, claiming tiredness as a result of a strenuous hunt the day before.

Once they had left, Mary waited a few minutes and then told Carson that she would be walking for the afternoon. She thanked him as he held the large front door for her.

Tom's cottage was not very far from the house and she had reached it quickly. Rapping her knuckles on the faded wooden door she awaited his appearance with bated breath. Surprisingly, she wasn't nervous.

Slowly, he revealed himself, grinning widely and ushering her inside.

It was small, the cottage, the downstairs comprising of a sitting room and small kitchen. It could not have been more different than the Abbey had it tried.

"You got away then?" He asked, taking her light summer coat and hanging it on a peg by a window.

Mary smiled her response and moved to sit on the couch in the centre of the room. It was light and airy, the cottage, it made her think of new beginnings.

Tom caught her waist and kissed her gently. Hungrily, Mary tugged at his collar and removed his tie, all the while retaining the kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" Tom asked breathlessly breaking away. She had caught him off guard with her request, though he obviously had not been hesitant in accepting.

"Yes," she replied. "I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life."

He then took her hand and lead her up the narrow staircase, each lost in the other.


	6. Chapter 6

Tom was dreading the house party organised to begin later that day. He was accepted by the Crawleys, loved even. However the same could not be said for the rest of their set. Unable to sit still, he paced back and forth in the library and jumped when Mary entered the room.

"Hello," she smiled, making her way over to the couch by the fire. Noting his discomfort, she asked, "Are you dreading this as much as I am?"

Laughing and sitting across from her, Tom ran his hands through his hair. He only did that when he was nervous, Mary knew that.

Straightening her lilac skirt, she looked at him from under her lashes.

"Thank you, Tom. I haven't had a chance to say so, but I am so grateful for you pulling me out of the mist."

"I was returning the favour. You saved me after Sybil died."

He furrowed his brow as her face contorted, the ghostlike Mary had returned momentarily. Quietly, speaking in a whisper, she said, "I owed it to her."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked, confused.

But before an explanation could be given, Cora burst into the room, announcing in a flustered voice that the guests would be arriving any minute.

▫️

Lord Gillingham was amongst the guests invited by her mother. They had been friendly as children, or at least their parents had.

Mary had been sequestered with him in a corner for the past half hour after dinner, and he had been flirting shamelessly.

"Who's the handsome pirate?" Robert asked his wife as he stood with both her an Tom.

"Don't you recognise Anthony Foyle?"

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten that his father had died. Mary seems quite taken with him."

Hearing that, Tom studied the pair, his stomach knotting with the familiar pangs of jealousy. When Mary placed her hand on Anthony's forearm, as she had with him all those years ago, he retreated to the library, and to the decanter of brandy.

▫️

Mary saw no escape from the dull Lord Gillingham and so laughed politely at his jokes for the evening. She had not noticed when Tom disappeared. It had only been eight months since Matthew's death and her parents were already lining up suitors. While Matthew had understood that her heart belonged to another, she did not believe that any other man would be so forgiving.

While the party gathered in the Great Hall to listen to Dame Nelly Melba, she noticed that Tom sat slouched in his seat. Sitting beside him, she tapped his hand quickly to rouse him.

"Not again." He moaned, sitting up slowly and with difficulty.

"What do you mean again?" Mary asked in a hushed whisper.

"N-nothing. You don't have to sit with me. I'm sure you rather sit with someone else."

"Nonsense. There's no one I'd rather spend an evening with."

In his inebriated state, Tom let his words flow freely.

"Not even the handsome pirate?"

As the famed singer appeared an applause erupted throughout the room, with Mary joining in.

"You've been reading too many stories to Sybbie, darling."

Tom looked at her out of the corner of his eye, grinned slightly and began to clap too.

▫️

"Apparently Edith wants driving lessons now." Mary announced, hugging Tom's bare torso under the light sheet.

"Really, why?" Tom asked, he had never understood why the sisters were always in competition.

"Papa told her it would be a good idea since I'm always in such a good mood after mine."

Laughing heartily, he sat up in the bed and looked at the woman before him. Her beauty was breathtaking, yet her wit and her sharp mind entranced him just as much. The past month had been the most exciting of his life. The same could be said for Mary. There was something about a secret that made one terribly giddy.

"I wish Sybil didn't have to do the season." Mary stood from the bed and began to dress, finding her various garments strewn throughout the room.

"Do you really have to go?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I'm afraid so. But I can tell you, my fifth season unmarried will not be much fun." Mary walked over to the bed and motioning for him to do up the buttons on the back of her dress. He planted a kiss on her neck as he tied the last fastener.

"Are they still pushing you towards Mr Crawley?"

"Yes." Mary sighed, collecting her shoes, and sitting on the bed to place them on her dainty feet. "I just don't know what to do. He's terribly boring."

Moving towards her, Tom wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her slowly, pushing her back onto the mattress.

"One can never be boring, isn't that right m'lady?"

"It is indeed, Branson." She whispered in a breathy voice.

▫️

The family filed into the waiting cars, with Cora and Robert taking the newer one at the head of the caravan. Mary was last to enter the higher car, and required Branson's assistance. She placed her hand in his and deposited a note, giving him a meaningful look as she did so.

After the train had departed and following his return to the Abbey, Tom found a spare moment in which to read what Mary had written him.

"Dearest T,

It is with a heavy heart that I leave today, knowing that I will not see you for weeks. How I wish we could continue our lessons in London. They would certainly provide my days with meaning, besides the ever important procession of balls and teas, soirees and luncheons that are obviously so very important. I do hope you can detect my sarcasm, or else you would think me very feeble minded.

Matthew Crawley is due in London in a weeks time. I had resolved to set him up with Edith. They are perfectly suited and can bore one another for decades once they are married. But then I changed my mind, the man may be dull, but he doesn't deserve such a punishment as a life chained to my sister. Perhaps Sybil. I could cede my crown to Sybil easily, but never to Edith.

Please write to me, don't worry about anyone checking the letters. I have Carson wrapped around my little finger.

Missing you already,

M.

P.S. I realise that this letter seems ridiculous, but it was written at dawn. Forgive me for its peculiarities."

He laughed and shook his head. What would he do without her?


	7. Chapter 7

"We can give you masses of introductions." A dejected Mary announced. They were sheltered from the rain in a barn and Tom had broached the topic of America.

She didn't want him to go, now, more than ever she needed him. Mary had never had many friends, so Tom meant a great deal to her.

"Speaking of your uncle, Robert had a letter from him this morning. It seemed serious."

Her dark brown eyes, ever drawing him in, entreated him. They begged him to stay. Yet he couldn't. The feelings that he harboured for her still pained him. Besides, she hadn't felt anything for him for years, beyond friendship.

"Shall we make a run for it?" The downpour showed no sign of abating and the pair needed to get back for their visit with the children.

"Here, take this." Tom removed his overcoat and offered it to Mary who took it gratefully.

▫️

Tom drinks himself into a stupor with alarming regularity. Even the slightest trigger sets him off. Tonight, it was a conversation regarding Lord Gillingham. Mary was going to London and Cora wanted her to meet him there. Retreating to the dark library with the familiar decanter, it was almost midnight when he was discovered.

"I thought you'd be here."

In his drunken state, he thought that it was Mary. He was to be sorely mistaken.

The figure switched on a lamp, illuminating her face and her blonde hair.

He had seen her before and they had talked. It was Cora's new maid, Edna.

"You shouldn't be alone." She whispered, sitting down beside him, very close beside him.

"I'll be alone forever at this rate. Why shouldn't I start now?"

Edna's eyes were green and feline. Not at all like Mary's. She leaned in to kiss him and her kiss was not at all like Mary's.

But Tom needed to dull the pain so he kissed her back and pushed her back against the red couch.

▫️

Mary, Tom and Rose were in London. The family had insisted that he travel with them, so as to boost his spirits. The guilt that ravaged him masquerading as grief.

Returning late from a jazz club to Rosamund's house, Mary stopped Tom at the foot of the stairs.

"What's the matter, Tom? You've been acting very strangely lately."

He looked down at her hand of his forearm and closed his eyes.

"If I told you, you'd despise me." He croaked, not looking at her.

Recalling what Matthew had told her all those years ago when she had asked for his assistance, Mary whispered: "I told someone that before, and their response was similar to mine now. I could never despise you Tom. Not even if I tried, and believe me, I have."

"I can't tell you out here." He said, looking around the large hallway, his voice echoing off the marble.

"The drawing room then."

▫️

Tom told Mary of his liaison with the maid. Shame was evident on his face but that did nothing to prevent her stomach from plummeting. She felt hollow.

"Why... Why did you do it?" She asked in a small voice.

"I needed to stop thinking. Thinking about...everything." His head was in his hands as Mary furrowed her brow.

"Is that why you drink?"

There was no response. Silence filled the room only to be broken by Mary minutes later. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"You need to help yourself Tom. I can only do so much, you have to do the rest. But I promise to help you overcome this."

She took his hand as he looked up.

"I wish that everything happened differently. It's my biggest regret, letting you go."

This shocked Mary. They had not spoken of their affair in years.

She stood and whispered: "We have an early start in the morning, we'd better get to sleep. Goodnight Tom."

Mary fled the room before she could hear his response and before she could say what she really wanted to.

"It's my biggest regret, leaving you."

▫️

"How was it?" Tom asked from the driver's seat. Mary sat in the back, lest anyone see her in the front, on her way to Ripon. She was in pursuit of a new book, and an afternoon with Tom.

"Dull for the most part, although the ball was beautiful. I swear, if I see Matthew Crawley from now until Christmas there will be blood on my hands."

Tom chuckled and caught her grinning in the mirror.

Matthew had stuck close to Mary throughout the season, like a lovesick puppy. She conceded that he was handsome, but that did not make up for the lack of spark. Perhaps looks may have been enough for her before Tom, but they did not hold a torch to love.

"Tom." She called after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Yes, m'lady." He joked.

"There's been a change of plan. I don't want a book anymore. Let's go to an hotel."

"Mary, what if someone sees?"

She held her chin up high and removed a scarf from her bag, wrapping it around her hair.

"They won't."

▫️

"I missed you." Tom sighed, hugging her close, careful not to mess up her hair.

"There's talk of war, you can't escape it in London."

"There will be one, I'm afraid. Don't worry, I won't be going anywhere."

Mary leaned up on her elbows, surprise mixed with relief etched on her face.

"You're quite the rebel Branson."

"As are you, in bed with the chauffeur."

They both smirked simultaneously and sat up, reluctant to leave the bed.

"It wont change much. We'll go on as normal." Mary promised.

▫️


End file.
